


100+ Words of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (Part II)

by rudigersmooch



Series: 100+ Words Series [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Rating varies by chapter and is in the chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudigersmooch/pseuds/rudigersmooch
Summary: An ongoing collection of short ficlets/standalone snippets based on FFA prompts.





	1. Things Unexpectedly Heating Up (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen.

After they finished with William Shakespeare, they moved onto Renoh Posgoll. Since she was Garak's choice and it was his turn to pick, Julian didn't complain too much, although he had to admit that his first impression of her most famous book, _The Forgotten Asylum_ , was that it was somewhat dry and a little slow-moving for his tastes. He expected it to be The Never-Ending Sacrifice all over again, but he persevered; Garak had said it was one of his favorites, and Julian was determined to give it a chance.

In retrospect, Julian probably should've paid more attention when Garak also described her work as "controversial."

"She kills them _all_ , and after they'd just reached paradise? What kind of ending is that?" Julian's voice came out a little loudly, and he instinctively lowered it before remembering that they weren't at either the Replimat or Quark's. This had been Julian's idea; though Garak hadn't said it explicitly, after spending six months in a holding cell, he'd obviously been happy and relieved to return to his own quarters, his own space. Julian had been willing to indulge that sort of unspoken homesickness, and he'd been happy to move their usual lunchtime debates there for the time being, even if it felt a little odd at times to be welcomed into Garak's private rooms.

He was feeling much less generous, however, upon seeing Garak blink at him innocently from across the table. Julian wasn't fooled; Garak had known _exactly_ how he'd react to what was, in the end, a tragedy heaped upon another tragedy.

"I did say it was historical, Doctor."

" _Garak_." Julian shook his head and put his fork down a little too loudly. "You also said it wasn't another morality tale. What else could this sort of ending be, if it's not another case of someone in power punishing someone else for crimes against the Cardassian state?"

"But that's exactly the point, Doctor! She did punish them, but this wasn't a matter for the Cardassian judiciary; there are no Cardassian laws against heresy, so Legate Tranta was acting in what she believed were the best interests of the state, even to excess. The controversy was whether she was right to do so or not."

"I can guess which side you fall on," Julian said, and he felt himself getting annoyed all over again. "Considering you did want to destroy an entire planet for "the good of the Alpha quadrant", and all."

Now the look Garak shot him was equally annoyed; Julian couldn't help feeling proud of that.

"That's hardly fair, Doctor; those were extenuating circumstances."

The retort wasn't a denial, though, and Julian used that as a stepping point for his next argument. They must've bickered back and forth like that for at least half an hour, but not even Julian's normally excellent sense of time could say exactly when they stopped. At the very least, their conversation lasted through lunch, through dessert, and through after-lunch drinks shared in Garak's living room. 

The one thing Julian knew for certain beyond that was that the debate ended around the time the kissing began.


	2. Last Night on Earth (Julian, past Julian/Palis)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for General Audiences. Light angst.

Julian called Palis one last time, the night before his ship left.

He didn't expect her to answer, so it surprised him when his call went through and his personal view screen lit up with an image of her face within seconds. She was wearing pearl earrings and had her hair pulled back, and he could tell that she'd been laughing right up until the minute he called. She had one of those faces: the kind that carried laughter well in the eyes and the curve of the mouth. Palis laughing was an image he wanted to take with him no matter where he went, and thanks to his enhanced memory, the image would stay for a long time.

Unfortunately, so would this: the way her expression pinched with concern, erasing whatever happiness was in her life at the time.

"Julian? Is something wrong?"

Julian smiled back, and the words he'd wanted to say— _come with me_ , maybe, or _we should try again, later_ \--didn't come. It wouldn't be fair to ask, foolish impulse aside; when his secret came out, she'd be ruined too. She'd hate him.

"What would be wrong?" He laughed, a confident laugh that he'd perfected years ago and that not even she could see through. "I just wanted to wish you luck. I'm shipping out in the morning."

"Oh." There was a pause, and Julian could hear laughter in the background. A party. "Well, good luck to you too, Julian. Have a safe trip." She smiled, and it was a shade of the smiles he'd seen before. "Call me if you're ever planetside again."

"Of course." He wouldn't, and they both knew it. "Goodnight, Palis."

She hung up before he could say anything else, but that was probably for the best. Julian had good ears, and if he didn't miss his guess, one of his old classmates had been at that party. He'd always fancied Palis too.

It was hard to get to sleep that night. And since no one was around to ask or notice, he didn't try very hard.


	3. The Morning After (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen. Implied sex pollen happened pre-story.

Considering that the last thing Julian remembered was stripping out of his shirt in a daze and feeling hot, too hot, he wasn't very surprised when he woke up in his quarters naked. He was, however, a little surprised to find his mouth mashed against a bare, grey shoulder, while the rest of him was wrapped around an equally-naked Garak like a climbing vine trying to make up for lost time. It wasn't the way he'd expected to wake up—ever—but he supposed weirder things had happened last night, courtesy of that beautiful, blossoming plant they'd quarantined too late. He couldn't really be blamed for his actions, not when he was pretty sure even _Odo_ had been affected.

He could be blamed, though, for the fact it took him several seconds of being awake to decide to pull away. Garak was still sleeping soundly, and he was cool to the touch, his body temperature just a few degrees shy of what was normal for a human; it was quite pleasant, actually, and Julian felt a distant appreciation for the fact that he'd at least found _Garak_ while in his infected haze. It could've been so much worse, and with Garak still asleep, Julian might even be able to make this into one of the least awkward morning afters he'd ever had.

All of his plans were derailed, however, when he began to pull his arms back and Garak made a soft, sleepy noise, followed by a "good morning, Doctor" as Garak tugged his arms right back to their previous resting place.

Well. Julian could hardly argue with that.


	4. First Time Oral Sex (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Explicit.

It wasn't really something Cardassians did, at least according to Garak. His explanation was two-part: that Cardassians preferred conversation during sex too much to want to occupy their mouths otherwise (true and something Julian was a strong supporter of, just based on his previous nights with Garak and the _conversations_ that took place during) but also that they found the taste of semen singularly unpleasant due to Cardassian taste buds. It was more of an explanation than Julian needed, and aside from a wistful sort of longing for an act he particularly enjoyed, it didn't occur to him to ask again when one refusal was plenty.

It surprised him, then, when Garak proposed it himself one night, somewhere between dinner and bed. He didn't sound completely certain, but he seemed willing to indulge Julian's preferences that night, and Julian got on his knees and began unfastening Garak's trousers before he could think to change his mind.

Garak watched him the entire time with a curious expression, but Julian didn't let that deter him from leaning forward to lick at the exposed bare skin just above Garak's slit. The texture was dry and the taste faintly mineral in nature, but the smell of sex grew stronger the longer Julian explored the surrounding skin with his tongue. When Garak's cock began to emerge and Julian licked that as well, the bitter taste was so potent that it almost stung, but it was worth it for the way Garak was shaking and silent except for the occasional soft noise.

Julian couldn't resist pulling away for just a second, though it was harder than he expected.

"I thought you wanted to talk."

"I'm having surprising difficulty coming up with the words, my dear Doctor," Garak said, and his expression was...still curious, but interested now too.

Julian decided there was no better encouragement in the universe, and he immediately bent his head back down to lick and suck until Garak was speechless in truth.


	5. Erotic Novels (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for General Audiences.

They'd been friends long enough that Julian could usually spot when Garak was hiding something so obviously that he wanted it to be found versus when he truly hoped no one would notice, but even after all these years, Julian wasn't sure what to think when he walked in one morning and Garak looked surprised and flustered for half a second before he tucked the data padd in his hands behind his shop counter. It was likely still an act of some kind, a deliberate choice made to spark Julian's curiosity, but if so, it was unusually sloppy on Garak's part. The worst tells were all there—Garak's loud and overly boisterous greeting, the way his eyes continually slid back to the hiding place of the padd during conversation, the way he hurried Julian out of the room for their designated lunch with one last backwards glance—and they were so obvious that Julian's first instinct was to ask, if only because it was expected of him.

Garak's response to the question—hurriedly changing the subject while looking even more agitated than before—was the first time Julian felt true curiosity. They were in the promenade, and Garak's pride should've kept him from revealing a weakness in public even if he'd been playing a game with Julian; impossible as it seemed, Garak's embarrassment may have been genuine, and if it was, it was strong enough that it hadn't dissipated after several minutes. Julian was more intrigued than he'd been in months, and so he kept the situation in his mind while he wondered what the best way to pry would be.

In the end, the solution fell into his lap four days later, in the form of a misdelivered package. The coincidence of the small box being Garak's was enough that Julian found it immediately suspect, but it made more sense when he saw that it had been flagged for sensitive materials and had been destined for the security office the next door over. One of the data rods inside had been badly damaged in transport and needed safely contained, but the other three were intact enough that Julian could pull the authors and titles off of each, storing them away in his mind for research once he'd delivered the rods to Odo.

Of all the things he'd expected, he hadn't expected erotic novels. The first existed in the realm of plausible deniability, to be fair—it was a Cardassian novel that had come out recently, and if it had been that novel alone, Julian would've assumed Garak was just keeping up with the literature of his home planet. The other two, however, were much less relevant on the surface, since one was a bit novel from two decades ago (also Cardassian) and the third was written by a human.

The only similarity in all three that Julian could find was that they all featured pairings between a Cardassian and a human, and that once the sex had passed, they all kept their happy endings.

 _No wonder Garak was embarrassed_ , Julian thought with no small amount of triumph. These were exactly the sort of books Garak would've mocked endlessly if Julian had ever recommended them. That Garak might enjoy them enough to order several of them at once was...interesting, but it was more interesting to think that Garak didn't enjoy them at all. He may have ordered them instead because he wanted to research their specific common subject.

With that thought and a plan already in place, Julian ordered a copy of each for himself, and then additional copies for Garak. Plausible deniability. 

If nothing else, he and Garak could certainly have some interesting lunchtime discussions over the next few months.


	6. Rimming (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature.

There weren't any beds in these Jem'Hadar ships, so they made do. For sleeping, the floor was good enough; for this, Garak braced himself against the wall, keeping his arms straight enough to hopefully hide the fact that his knees were shaking.

He still wasn't sure what Bashir was up to; it was an odd feeling, to say the least, though it was one that had rolled around in Garak's stomach for the better part of five months. Dr. Julian Bashir, augment: he truly _had_ fooled them all, and Garak wasn't used to underestimating people, wasn't used to being seen through and picked apart and found wanting. It wasn't a reality he liked, and so of course he took it out on the good doctor with snide remarks and short words, a petty bit of revenge that had obviously not escaped Bashir's suddenly superior observational skills.

That didn't explain, however, how they had gone from discussing it—calmly, to both their credit—to Bashir kneeling behind him and pulling his trousers down so he could press his warm lips against Garak's thigh. It was an intimate touch, just like the gentle press of Bashir's thumbs against the backs of Garak's knees, but if Bashir planned to manipulate him—well, he could've done it just as easily without all this, that much was clear.

"Relax, Garak," Bashir said in an even tone as his fingers moved upward, their soft nails scraping delicately against Garak's rougher skin. "I won't do anything you don't want."

"That seems like a foolish promise to make, my dear doctor. Surely you are _smarter_ than that," Garak said as viciously as he was able, but it wouldn't have fooled a Cardassian at their worst, and he doubted it fooled Bashir. After all, Garak was still standing here, still letting Bashir touch him without so much as a lighthearted protest; Garak's priorities couldn't have been clearer even if he hadn't sighed and shuddered at the first touch of Bashir's tongue between his cheeks. He was as skillful in this as he was in conversation and debate, and every touch was perfect, from the way Bashir's thumbs pressed him open to the way he exerted just enough pressure to keep his hips still. Garak really had no one to blame except himself for the fact that Bashir had obviously noticed _this_ was one of his unspoken fantasies, and it was humiliating, the thought that Bashir had known about his attraction and done nothing for years.

Humiliation was its own aphrodisiac, though, and so Garak didn't let it stop him from groaning out a protest when Bashir pulled away several minutes later. He didn't go far—just far enough.

"Still think I'm a computer?" Bashir said, and he sounded annoyed, perhaps even hurt. Garak was surprised that, of all things, had been the blow to land.

"As much as the ones on this ship," Garak said lightly, the lie coming easily. It was cruel—and extremely unconvincing.

Fortunately, Bashir's wonderful mind didn't need even a full second to comprehend it.

"Good," Bashir said, and this time when he leaned back in, he pushed one hand against Garak's back, just enough to hold him steady.


	7. Confessions (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen.

Garak had been telling the truth for three days before anyone realized that's what he'd been doing, and at that point, his most troublesome customer—a particularly clever Andorian with a penchant for open-collar shirts and a skilled hand at designing inconvenient but non-fatal viruses—had long since departed. By the time the truth virus had hit the rest of the station, the cure was two solar systems away and Julian had said more than a few unkind remarks to his medical staff, and realizing that Garak was functionally patient zero for the outbreak didn't improve anyone's mood. Julian's one comfort in all of this was that he knew he wasn't alone in his frustration; for well over thirty-six hours, nobody in the infirmary could stop themselves from complaining or spilling their deepest feelings, and Julian now knew more about his staff than he'd ever wanted to.

When he felt the first stirring of the virus in his own blood, a delayed response that was no doubt thanks to his artificially heightened immune system, Julian immediately dismissed the rest of his staff. The timing wasn't ideal—Garak had just arrived to be tested, and if there was one person he didn't want to tell about his augmentation, it was _Garak_ —but there was nothing he could do. With luck, Garak wouldn't want to talk any more than he did, and the virus could only force someone to talk in a conversation. If they both stayed quiet, this would be fine.

Unfortunately, luck was not on his side.

"I don't know why anyone didn't realize what was wrong when I told Mr. Beaufort that his taste was atrocious," Garak said, sounding snippy and unquestionably tired as he settled on a biobed. "That's no way to run a business."

Julian ground his teeth against his instinctive answer, but Garak wasn't finished.

"And then my day did not improve, even though security was so kind as to _escort_ me here. You and I both know perfectly well that you won't find a cure by examining me."

"I already know the cure," Julian said, so quickly that he could barely understand himself. "But the ship that has the necessary ingredients in its cargo hold is overdue, and so I'm stalling for time before I can stumble convincingly upon the solution."

Garak looked at him with an expression slightly less irritated than it had been a second ago.

"Really. That's quite manipulative of you, Doctor." Garak smiled a perfectly friendly smile, the only lie he was capable of at the moment. "I assume you have your reasons."

It wasn't a question, but it was an interrogation. Julian could feel the corresponding answer trying to burst out of him, and for one wild moment, he considered the idea that Garak had gotten them all infected on purpose. It wasn't completely implausible; if Garak suspected something about him, about any of them, this 'accident' would be one way to find out their secrets. Garak could've orchestrated the entire thing, trusting that being forewarned would help him keep his truly dangerous secrets hidden behind useless details. No, none of this would've been beyond his skills or connections. 

Whether it was intentional or not, though, Julian could only be grateful that he too had more than one truth to give. With no other choice, he accepted embarrassment and a potentially lost friendship in place of discovery.

"I've always found spies and espionage deeply fascinating," Julian said, "and it's a role I've often wanted to play myself. You should know that already, though—it's one of the biggest reasons I like you so much, and a large contributing factor to how much I want to have sex with you."

Garak's eyes widened comically at that last part, but the better indicator of surprise was that he didn't say anything at all for several seconds.

"I knew you idolized the profession, Doctor," he finally said once he'd recovered enough, "though I did not know it was to that extent."

"Oh, it isn't," Julian said with deliberate cheer and a calculating mind. Garak had followed Julian's minor truth like the veritable white rabbit, but he hadn't seemed disgusted or offended or embarrassed as Julian had expected. It was a lack of response that needed exploring. "I also just quite enjoy sex, and I like your figure. I've thought frequently about undressing you and bending you over somewhere during lunch, like with a biobed here or a display table in your shop. According to your preference, of course."

"Of course," Garak said. For a moment he looked at Julian with something like mesmerized disbelief, and then the conversation took an unexpected turn. "I'd…have to close the shop."

"Or not," Julian said, and because he was watching for it, because of where they were, he saw Garak's pulse jump at the words. "Though if that's a concern, I should point out that we're technically under a medical quarantine right now."

"Well then," Garak said, and he got to his feet.


	8. Experience (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen for non-explicit sexual fantasies.

For all that he was young and rather arrogant, people nonetheless flocked to Bashir when faced with the station's limited options for companionship. 

Of course, Garak didn't pretend he wasn't among said flock, but after knowing the man for approximately three months, he still found it curious to see just how vast the count was. Bashir seemed to like people of all varieties, and he viewed them with an eye towards exploration and enjoyment. He rarely turned down an opportunity to flirt or engage with anyone who offered, surprisingly unconcerned and undiscriminating through it all, and the people who returned his interest seemed pleased with the affairs even when they ended. Garak didn't even have to listen particularly closely to hear sighs of bliss in the mornings after the good doctor had found himself a new companion for the night; it was extremely distracting on every level, and annoying, somewhat, considering Bashir had made no such advances in his direction.

What would it be like, Garak wondered with frankly alarming frequency, to sleep with a man who'd had dozens? That Bashir was skilled sexually was not in question, but certainly Garak had no basis for what that meant to a human. Would Bashir's touch be just light enough by instinct, like the most skilled interrogator? Would he find the sensitive areas of Garak's body like he followed an unseen map, following territory that few had ever bothered to be interested in? Would he hear Garak's involuntary sounds and see the expression in his eyes and know that his reaction was real, more truth than he'd ever give him in words? Would he use that sort of weakness as a Cardassian would, and keep Garak on blissful edge until he eventually tired of him?

The thoughts made Garak shiver and squirm, and then close his eyes and breathe.

It really was for the best, Garak decided, that Bashir didn't seem interested at all.


	9. Impatience (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen for Garak being a shameless tease.

At some point, Julian was going to have to figure out exactly how much time Garak spent teasing him. 

Though, even without doing the calculations, he knew the percentage was substantial, certainly enough that he should’ve been used to it after a little over three years of friendship.

So why did he feel himself start to sweat when Garak knelt on the floor in front of him, ostensibly to do something fussy with his trouser hems?

“You said they were too short, Doctor? I don’t think so,” Garak said, as his fingers tugged gently at the fabric and whispered across Julian’s bare ankles. “I think it’s the cut—much too boxy for your frame.” He tsked lightly. “I’m not sure how much I can help with _this_. You really should know better than to buy ill-fitting clothes just because they’re your favorite garish color.”

“That’s missing the principle of a souvenir, Garak,” Julian said to the top of Garak’s head, since Garak kept his head bowed even as he spoke. Julian told himself it was probably for the best that he seemed largely focused on the area below Julian’s knees, even though the humming nose he made in response was more than a little distracting. Cardassians had an impressive vocal range compared to other species, and Julian heard a great deal more than most humanoids would—he didn’t know if Garak even knew he was making a sound, or if he felt the vibration at all, but Julian was struck by an urge to ask, to test, to cover Garak’s throat with his hand and see if he felt it too. It was _absurd_ , and still Garak didn’t look up.

Something cool brushed Julian’s skin as Garak worked, and then again. It was a metal pin pushed through fabric then followed by several more, and Julian felt the itch to move. Garak didn’t have to do it that way, pinning his hems by hand; Julian had seen the various tools and contraptions Garak kept in his shop, and he was observant enough to recognize one of them as a temporary seaming device. It should’ve taken seconds or less; Garak probably could’ve done it without Julian even here.

When Garak moved his hands up his legs, muttering something about letting out a seam there or adding a tuck here, Julian nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Are you almost finished?” Julian asked. His voice that was embarrassingly high, and he was flushing, a ridiculous overreaction when Garak had done nothing more than touch his knees.

Then Garak looked up, and he smiled.

“That’s the problem with young people today,” Garak said, his eyes fixed to Julian’s face as his hands inched higher. “No patience at all.”


	10. Bad Sex (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for implied sex.

Julian freely admitted that he could get carried away during sex, but not even the haze of lust was enough to confuse him when he bit down on the neck ridge he'd been excitedly kissing and Garak _yelped_. It was worse than a splash of cold water, and it sent Julian scrambling backwards out of concern and caution, a reaction that was only partially alleviated by the fact that Garak didn't move except to rub his hand against the offended spot near his jaw.

"Garak! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Not that I don't appreciate your enthusiasm, my dear," Garak interrupted, his eyes flashing with irritation, "but I believe I _have_ mentioned how sensitive a Cardassian's neck can be."

"You have," Julian said a little gloomily, because Garak hadn't moved, and that meant Julian had a perfect view of just how turned off he currently was. So much for spontaneity. "I…think I interpreted that information incorrectly."

Miraculously, some of the irritation on Garak's face faded at that, replaced with something that looked more like fond exasperation.

"Not entirely," he said as he dropped his hand from his neck, seemingly satisfied with the lack of visible injury. "Some spots do react differently than others. Finding them, however, requires a bit more…"

"Exploring?" Julian finished, and the word was answered with a nod and a faint smile.

"Exactly." 

Julian was more than okay with that condition, but he admittedly was still cautious when he leaned forward. It was just close enough that he was able to touch his fingers against the harder, stronger scales near Garak's shoulders and move them slowly upward towards softer skin and thin, almost delicate laminae. 

Garak didn't stop him, and it occurred to Julian, too late, how significant it was that Garak hadn't ever pulled away during this entire conversation.


	11. Kissing and Regret (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated for General Audiences.

Julian wasn't sure how to act the next day, to the point that he worried about it with half a mind all morning. In the end, it was rationalized stubbornness that made him keep his lunch date with Garak; considering the awkwardness of murder attempts and lies that their friendship had already overcome, he felt that overcoming a _kiss_ was a minor hurdle, especially when—all things considered—they'd parted on good terms the night before.

It wasn't until he saw Garak sitting at their regular table, calmly sipping his drink while poking idly at the pile of noodles on his plate, that Julian realized just how much he was bothered by the placid expression on his face. It was how Garak normally looked at the start of their lunches, a familiar if mild lie, but while Julian had come to recognize and expect it and after all these years, it didn't erase the memory of how different Garak had been just sixteen hours ago. 

For a few minutes, maybe less, Garak had looked happy, enough that Julian had believed it. And then Julian had pulled back, made excuses, and watched the mask slide back into place.

Sitting down at the table under these circumstances suddenly felt like a herculean feat, and Julian wasn't sure he managed a convincing smile when Garak looked at him. Whether he did or not didn't seem to matter, however, when Garak gave his customary greeting before launching into an impassioned defense of the latest piece of deeply frustrating Cardassian literature he'd foisted on Julian. It was all very easy, very normal, and Julian felt himself fall into the relaxing lull of it, content with the knowledge that Garak was giving every impression of considering Julian's late night faux pas already forgotten.

It was only Julian's fault, really, that he had an unfortunately perfect memory.


	12. Men in short shorts (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen. A little cracky.

The good doctor's outfit offended every fiber of Garak's being, or at least that's what he was prepared to say when someone finally caught him staring. As it was, the fact that Garak had straightened noticeably in his chair the moment Bashir walked into the room, an alarmingly obvious tell, seemed to go unnoticed in light of the way conversation died at approximately the same time. If Garak was staring, he took some comfort in knowing that at least he wasn't the only one.

Bashir didn't seem bothered by the attention, of course—why would he have been? The athletic wear might've been bordering on obscene to Garak's eyes, but it showed off his lovely, long legs and clung adoringly to every possible shape above the smooth column of his thighs. The display was only to Bashir's advantage, even if Garak cursed him a little bit for having the debut of the very small shorts happen during one of their standing lunches; Garak had done a remarkably good job up to this point of _not_ thinking of Bashir's thighs, but now it was unavoidable that his fingers itched with the urge to touch the fine hairs there, to follow them up to unrevealed shadows and delights hidden under the flimsy, shimmery cloth.

It was enough to make Garak feel a little lightheaded, which explained Bashir's look of concern as he sat down. Worse than concern, though, was that hiding all that bare skin underneath the tabletop didn't help as much as Garak had hoped; the chance that Bashir might shift and knock their knees together made Garak press his booted heels tight against the legs of his chair, uncomfortably aware of just how _small_ these tables were.

"Garak? Are you all right?"

"Just fine, Doctor," Garak answered automatically, hoping that Bashir wouldn't notice how breathy his voice was. "Merely finding my eyes strained by some garish green shade, though it seems to have disappeared now."

Bashir's look changed to one of annoyance, which was—better. Much better.

"Not my color, I take it? I have some silver ones in my closet, but they seemed a little short. I guess I could try them instead, next time."

"Oh, don't change on my account," Garak said, a little desperately. "It's just a preference."

"If you say so. I'll have to think about it." Bashir smiled at him, the expression dazzling and nearly as arresting as his beautiful skin. "I wouldn't want you to go blind—that wouldn't make me a very good doctor at all, would it?"

"Of course not," Garak said faintly, all the while silently cursing himself as a fool.


	13. Your Fave Being Wrecked (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature. Non-explicit sex.

Some part of Garak had expected Bashir to be sweet, tentative even, if they ever reached a point where their conversations eventually led beyond flirting to sex. It wasn't an expectation based on anything more than idle fantasy and the belief that his naïve friend boasted more than he practiced, but even without evidence to support it, Garak assumed it was a more realistic standard to hold a new sexual partner to than perfection. It was foolish, absurd even, to think that a human would instinctively know how a Cardassian liked to be touched, especially one with Garak's particular peculiarities and tastes.

In retrospect, his expectations would've been much more realistic if he'd known about Bashir's enhancements from the start; at the very least, he wouldn't have ended up in a dazed heap, struggling to catch his breath while Bashir raked his nails down the his thighs and sucked _lightly_ on his neck, just over the knot at the base of his skull. Pain but not too much, such a delicate balance, and Bashir didn't hesitate at all, for any of it, even as he moved above him with a skill Garak had not expected.

Garak was suddenly quite overwhelmed and he didn't like it at all, which was of course the moment Bashir pulled back even though Garak hadn't said a thing.

"You okay?" Bashir asked, the words soft and warm and almost tender. Kind, but not too much.

"Of course," Garak said, and he wasn't sure if it was a lie or not.


	14. Masturbating with someone specific in mind (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Explicit.

Garak was much too old for infatuation, but under the circumstances, he viewed the late night turn of his thoughts as some sort of sad inevitability. It seemed to be the will of the universe that whatever small joys Garak found would be snatched away, and so of course— _of course_ —he wasn't allowed to just see Bashir as a pleasant companion or a dear friend. That would be much too easy and much too merciful, and being exiled wasn't supposed to be a pleasant experience, not even in his own thoughts; that Garak could no longer touch himself without imagining Bashir's hands was simply another punishment, one that had made him stop unfulfilled every night before tonight, for weeks.

Not tonight, however. Garak was determined to persevere like he always had, and after resisting for so long, it would only take a few minutes. He wouldn't even have time to think of Bashir if he allowed his body to control him for once, and though that thought was its own kind of fear, he allowed it for now as he slid his hand under his trousers and touched his fingers to the base of his cock. He closed his eyes and breathed and let his hands wander and pull, too rough but perfect, and then focused on how warm it could be at night, if only he hadn't been alone.

It was sheer stubbornness that kept him from letting his mind wander to thoughts of kissing Bashir's soft mouth, to ending one of their arguments with a promise to make it up to him as he knelt at his feet. It was determination that kept him from imaging just what Bashir would taste like everywhere, from the strong line of his throat to the softness of his lightly-furred stomach and the tip of his cock. It was denial that kept him from hearing the sounds Bashir would make as Garak touched him, and the sounds Garak would make as Bashir touched him in turn.

It was idiocy, in the end, that allowed Garak to clench his eyes tight and find release to the thought of Bashir holding his hand, their fingers intertwined.


	15. Dubcon Because Amnesia (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Mature/Explicit.

Garak was no stranger to waking up in a place he'd rather not be, but this was the first time he could remember waking up in an unfamiliar bed with a warm and naked body wrapped around him. It was especially strange for two reasons; first, that thanks to the smell of the air and the heat in the room, he could tell they were back on Cardassia. Garak had just been banished—he had no reason to be back on Cardassia, and certainly no reason to be sleeping soundly in a bed if he'd managed to make it back after all.

Second, though, was that the man next to him was _human_ and very attractive, with dark hair laced with white and truly lovely golden skin and a hint of age near his eyes. Garak had never been the sort of person who was swayed by physical beauty, but if he had been—well, this human would've caught his attention. And obviously had, somehow, though Garak couldn't remember the details.

It was a dangerous realization, and so as soon as the human blinked into awareness, Garak rolled them both and pinned his hands above his head, Garak's fingers tight around his wrists.

"Who are you?" Garak asked in his most unnervingly pleasant voice. "Who do you work for?"

The man beneath him, rather than looking scared or struggling, simply rolled his eyes.

"If this is a joke, Garak, it isn't funny," he said, "and if it's some kind of game, I'd like a little warning next time."

"I think you're the one playing games," Garak said firmly, and he pointedly ignored the sigh of exasperation that answered the proclamation. "And you will answer my questions. Now."

The human narrowed his eyes, and then—in a move that completely baffled Garak—he smiled.

"Is that so?" he asked, and he shifted deliberately, a gentle rock of his hips. It drew attention to their current state of undress, and the way the human was—aroused, exceedingly so, judging by the tall column of flesh standing between his thighs and pressing insistently against Garak's backside. "Maybe we could trade."

"Trade?" Garak said with a scoff, and he pretended he wasn't bothered by their position in the slightest. In truth, he remembered how he'd woken up, as well as the pleasant ache in his muscles that still lingered; if this human hadn't fucked him last night, Garak would be surprised. "Do you think you're in any position to bargain?"

"I don't know, Garak. You tell me what _position_ you think I'm in." He grinned, and it was so charming, so attractive, that Garak nearly lost his grip. "I think you like it like this. A strong, experienced spy like you? You must want to be in control." Another rock of his hips. "So go on. Fuck the answers out of me."

The answers in question—that this man knew he was a spy, knew his name, and probably knew more than that—were already apparent, and that should've been enough. Garak should've gotten up, dressed, and disappeared, because who knew how close the Obsidian Order was to his location by now.

What he should not have done was rock back against the human until his cheeks flushed pink and Garak started to tremble with want and recklessness, and the crazy thought that they'd done this many times before.


	16. Unexpected Virgins (Garak/Bashir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen for mentions of sex.

As a general rule, Julian tried to take patients at their word, but there was something deeply frustrating about trying to do so while _knowing_ that they were lying.

"And you're telling me this is your complete sexual history?" Julian turned his padd to face Garak, showing him the glaringly blank screen. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

Garak smiled up at him, his expression infuriatingly bland. 

"Quite certain, Doctor."

Julian sighed and resisted the urge to rub his eyes; it wouldn't help his headache, and all it would do was make Garak think he'd won at whatever game he'd been playing at for the past fifteen minutes.

"Garak, this is serious," Julian said, not for the first time. "A new strain of GXP-19760 hit this part of the quadrant fifteen years ago and we just found out about it this morning. With how quickly it spreads through sexual contact, I need to know if you've been exposed; everyone on the station has been through this, including me." A new possibility for Garak's reticence presented itself, and Julian tried a different tactic. "If you'd rather talk to a nurse or another doctor—"

"Doctor, I assure you that you have nothing to worry about in this case," Garak interrupted, "as it's quite impossible for me to be carrying The Batch."

"Impossible?"

Garak looked at him like he was being obtuse.

"That _is_ my complete history, Doctor." He smiled with no small amount of mirth, clearly at Julian's expense. "Most people wouldn't have this much trouble believing it."

"Well, I'm hardly most people," Julian responded automatically, ignoring how dangerously close to the truth that was. It wasn't important at that moment, because Garak—Garak was a _shameless_ flirt, charming when he wanted to be, and so disdainful of Julian's failed attempts at relationships that Julian had naturally assumed it all came from a place of much greater experience. It had just seemed foolish to think otherwise, and so Julian had tried to take it in stride—flirted back when the occasion presented itself, and laughed off what seemed like friendly ribbing about his tastes.

Julian wasn't sure what to do with this new knowledge, especially when his thoughts took a distinctly unprofessional turn. It was like a floodgate opened, and suddenly he couldn't help but wonder if Garak _wanted_ experience, and if he might be interested in following Julian's lead just this once—or a few dozen times, maybe.

He tried his best to push it from his mind, cleared his throat, and picked up his padd again.

"Well then. About the rest of your medical history..."


End file.
